Devil In The Dark
by Angel1876
Summary: It's rather fascinating, how the public's come to view the Fazbear industry. We've become quite a legend, full of missing children and violent machines. Of course, if they actually saw what happened back then, they'd be horrified. An attraction based on the mystery surrounding a series of murders. Do you want to hear the full story?
1. Chapter 1

Things are quiet tonight.

They have been for a good while. It happens, these lulls in activity, times of rest to separate one forest fire from another. No matter how deep the anger or hatred, there was only so much energy anyone could spare for an extended amount of time, especially when that time is measured in decades. In the early years, she'd lashed out every night. A constant hail of torment, she'd torn me apart with all the rage of a thunderstorm, over and over again, until it was hard for me to think of a time that I wasn't in constant pain. Those were the days, the novelty of revenge so fresh that it was the only thing she could focus on.

It was never going to last, of course. Now we've become something close to resembling casual. There are times where we talk, discuss one useless subject or another. There are times we bicker, little arguments like what old friends might have. It's reached the point where I actively have to bait her, pull her into a discussion and hit at her old wounds before she'll snap. Let her settle into the routine, wait until she reaches the point where she's starting to forget, and then I remind her who I am. I like to watch her eyes. It's always the best part, seeing that split second of shock, like she's startled, only to slide over into a glare, her teeth clenching, a rekindling of that old spark.

We're in separate rooms for the moment. I'm in the closed off area, way in the back, behind the wall. I'm always here, technically, my body still stuck in that springlock rabbit. Slouched in the corner, leaning against the wall. Head bowed in a way that'd give me a hell of a stiff neck if I wasn't dead. It's a strange situation, this ghost thing. I don't have to be connected to my body, that's not how this works, but I do have to be connected to something physical. The fact that it happens to be my body isn't the point.

I'm tied to that skeleton, it is me. For lack of a better word, I'm...possessing it. Which isn't to say I can move it, no, I can't so much as twitch. I simply live there. That's not to say I'm immobile, though.

I can project myself. Step outside my body, wander about, walk and talk and prance. No one can see me, of course, no one but other spirits. No one can touch me but other spirits, too. I've long since lost the nerves with which to feel pain, but it's still possible. This projection is an image of my soul, my essence, if you will. Strike out at ones' soul, and of course it's going to hurt.

It goes without saying this is something she can do, too. She wrote the book on it, but more on that later.

It's about time I head out. The silence is getting to me, isn't it you? You're not here for a story about the guy who sat around and did nothing all day, after all, and I'm nothing if not a gracious host. Come, let's go check on Miss Mary.

Mary wasn't always her name, you know. None of them kept their old names, so that isn't a surprise there. I remember what they used to be called, every one of them, but once they found themselves tied to their own animatronic, they adopted that animatronic's name. Bonnie, Chika, Freddy...Foxy...

But the important one in this case is little Marionette. She's the one that started it. Started everything, sure, but this specific thing, I mean. See, Mary's original name was Alice.

The pizzarea has seen better days. Worse now than it was, what with people stomping around the rotted floorboards and tearing apart whatever isn't nailed down. Freddy Fazbear's was already in disrepair, and it's only gotten worse now that it's been rediscovered. Like a rusty toy found by an over-enthusiastic toddler, delicate parts tossed against the pavement by the one who claimed to love it the most. That's just human nature, though, isn't it? We all bring destruction to the things we care about most.

I remember this place as it once was. I was here when they built it, here to see everything when it was still fresh and new. It's been closed and reopened and moved so many times, but the basic ideal remains the same. A place of adventure, where fun and fantasy come to life. It's nostalgic, even if this particular location isn't the one I would have chosen to be trapped in.

She's not even in the building. My search for her brings me outside, though not far. The thing about being tied to something is that you can only move a certain distance away from it, so my movement is limited.

I can just reach her, where she stands. Drawing close, I linger at her back, eyes on her while her own linger upward, on the billboard sitting opposite us.

She doesn't need to hear me, and I don't have to get a response to know she knows I'm here. We feel each other, sense the other's presence like a heaviness of the air. Mary's shorter than me, the top of her head reaching about the mid-point of my chest. Long, wavy hair, falling just short of curly, light brown. She's a teenager, fourteen, although she doesn't have to be. We can choose what age to project ourselves as. I died an old man, but I like being young, so I take the form I had when I was in my twenties.

Reaching out, I rest my hands on her shoulders. She doesn't move. See what I mean about casual? Once upon a time this would have gotten me thrown against the wall.

"Few more days." I say. "Wonder if they'll stop coming once they have something new to chew on?"

"Doubt it. It'll encourage them."

I smile at that. She's upset. Not at me.

"Maybe the building will collapse on the next group to come in?"

"That'll just bring more of them."

"Ha. True."

It doesn't take much. A few inches. I trail a hand along her shoulder, under her hair, to brush the side of her neck. I touch one of the bruises left there, a test, but she doesn't even flinch. Her eyes remain on the board.

Her neck usually a sore spot, considering how I'd killed her.

I'd always had an interest in small things. Rodents, birds, the occasional kitten. I was always careful not to get caught. I never went after anything human until I ran across her, little girl standing out alone one day. I didn't plan it, the opportunity simply presented itself.

Freddy's was a diner back then, the Freddy Fazbear diner, with a single animatronic and a fresh new image to attract people to its doors. No cameras yet, though, and there'd been no witnesses. We spoke, exchanged names. Hers was Alice, mine was Richard. She didn't have any money to go in, and the place was reserved for a party, anyway. Turns out she was there for nostalgia purposes. Her mom had taken her a few times, and said mother wasn't around anymore. She told me about her dad, he'd probably be upset she skipped school, but he'd understand.

He probably would have. Didn't get the chance though. I strangled her, no one noticed.

And I mean that, not just in terms of the people inside, but in general. Imagine my surprise when, several days passed after the murder, and not a single mention of it could be found in the paper. There was a reason for that, of course, though I didn't know at the time. Turns out someone from the company noticed the body first. One of the higher ups. Instead of reporting it, they took it inside, and tucked it away. Didn't want the bad publicity. That more or less summarizes the franchise as a whole, doesn't it?

I press the palm of my hand over her throat, and finally she reaches up and pushes me off.

"Stop that."

Frustration, not anger. It was something, I supposed, though still disappointing. She could have cared less about me at the moment. I let her go and step to her side instead. A passive move, easy to give in to her demand. She was in charge here.

I look at the billboard, the new focal point of our existence.

It reads, 'Introducing Fazbear's Fright, The New Horror Attraction.'


	2. Chapter 2

It's rather fascinating, how the public's come to view the Fazbear industry. We've become quite the horror story, full of missing children and violent machines. People hear it and they come flocking. Of course, if one put the reality of the situation in front of them, they would recoil. Oh, they can say they like the legend all they want, but if they saw what happened, they'd change their mind. The fact of the matter is that those who died aren't real to them anymore, they're characters. This is the reason Fazbear's Fright upsets dear Mary so.

An attraction based on the mystery surrounding a series of murders. She's angry because they're taking these events and turning them into entertainment. They're making it into something fun, belittling the situation and making light of the things that happened.

And we can't forget that Mary was one of them. I promised I'd explain some things before, didn't I?

She was the first human I ever killed, and she's special, but for more than that. More than the start of my career, there's something special about the girl herself. The thing you need to understand about this particular haunting is that we don't die and then find ourselves trapped. We don't die and tie ourselves to physical things to hang around. We die, and then whatever it is that we are, our energy, our soul, it leaves. It goes wherever souls go after they're separated from the body. We don't have a choice. No such thing as 'unfinished business,' or any crap like that.

Mary, though, she had a choice. I can't say what makes her different, I don't know how she does it, I just know that she does. When I killed her, her soul lingered. She found a way to attach herself to something physical, in this case it was the yellow bear inside the diner.

It's her ability to possess things that sets her apart, and puts everything into motion. Instead of fading away, she stayed, having chained herself to the company that covered up her death. Maybe it was out of a sense of obligation, maybe she was already planning revenge, or maybe...she was just afraid to die. And this ability to tie herself to living world extends to everyone around her. What I'm saying is, I'm not here through my own actions. I didn't attach myself to the rotten body inside the spring Bonnie suit, she tied me to the thing to keep me around, as a punishment for what I did to her. When it comes down to it, it's her choice, what ultimately happens to us. We could have left this place a long time ago, it's Mary who chooses not to go.

Which is quite telling about the girl herself, if you think about it.

But I'm jumping to the end of the story here. Let's go back to the beginning. I killed her, she found refuge in the Freddy springlock suit. Both costume and machine, revolutionary at the time, would have saved quite a bit of money if they didn't kill people when they malfunctioned. It was right around here that Bonnie joined Freddy, an extra hand to serve the children that attended the restaurant. They didn't want to have two Freddy's wandering about, wanted to make it more believable.

So the suits malfunctioned during a party, two people died in front of a crowd. This wasn't something they could cover up, and they were forced to shut down. Had to reinvent the place, reopen it with a new image. Technically they weren't supposed to use the suits anymore, but this is Freddy Fazbear's, they almost never listened to the rules. Mary followed them, of course. Somewhere around this point, she made the shift to Marionette. Maybe she couldn't stomach possessing one of the suits that killed someone, or maybe she just liked handing out presents that weren't messy food items.

Whatever the case, when the place reopened, it came with new characters, characters that came together to form a band. Chika and Foxy. Foxy, of course, always had its own problems. Couldn't seem to get it right no matter what they did. Balloon boy, the Marionette, it was huge, a full make over.

And what was I doing during all this?

I was applying. They wanted security guards, and I wanted a job. I'd always liked Freddy Fazbear's, especially ever since what'd happened with Mary just outside their front door, after they'd so nicely covered up the murder for me. My kids liked the place, too.

Does that surprise you? That I had kids of my own? I had a wife, too, at once point. She wasn't alive anymore when I got the job. I didn't do it, for the record. Accidents happen. It didn't bother me, I kept her around to chase away boredom more than anything else. It was the kids I cared about. My eldest, Thomas, and my youngest, Percy.

Believe whatever you like of me, but understand that regardless of my hobby, I loved my kids. I loved them more than anything. I still do.

So I got the job. Day shift, which is better than night shift. At night, no one's around, you're left on your own. But during the day, you guard, you serve, you help out the rest of the staff, you entertain. Bit of a mixed bag of responsibilities. I worked at the place that was still using the spring lock suits, and eventually learned both how to wear them and how to help others into them. Tricky things, the spring locks. Can't touch them, can't breathe on them. Hell, look at them wrong and they snap, and then all the machinery that was pushed out of the way so that you could fit in just springs back into place.

It was here that I met Anthony. Anthony was a co-worker, a fellow guard, but soon he rose in ranks. Became the supervisor. He was also the most annoying shit I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Young, naive, talkative. Easy to manipulate, sure, but a pain to deal with. Optimistic too, always wanted to believe in this place, give it the benefit of the doubt, like it could get better if someone stuck with it long enough.

This is something we have in common, Mary and I, although for different reasons. I disliked him because he grated on my nerves, she disliked him for getting in her way. First time I made her laugh was when I brought him up. Put my hand to the side of my head, thumb and pinky sticking out like I was on the phone. "Hello, hello!" I'd said, "Just called to make sure the robots didn't stuff you into a suit! Because that's a reasonable thing to design your robots to do to your workers. Keeps them awake, you know? Gee, I love my job!"

But I digress.

When I started working, Mary and I were reunited, though I didn't know it at the time. Anthony was already a few months my senior, and I remember him telling me how much the 'puppet' creeped him out. How much it liked to stare. I laughed him off until I realized it was, indeed, staring. One can only imagine what that must have been like, seeing me again.

Especially with the kids. I brought Thomas and Percy often, even let them come hang out during my entire shift sometimes. Gave them enough spending money that they could play the games and get whatever food they wanted. Although I tended to avoid them if I happened to be wearing one of the suits. Percy, although he loved he characters, wasn't one for the animatronics themselves. Probably a matter of size, he was small, and they were huge.

I wonder how long it took for Mary to realize I wasn't luring them away to kill them when we left?

If that was an issue, she'd have learned quickly enough that if I were to kill someone, I'd have done it on the premises. My next victim was a young boy named Robby. He was around eight or nine, younger still than Mary. Unlike her, I didn't leave him out in the open, instead choosing to hide him away myself. Have to be careful when you're hunting in the same place you work. I put him in the Bonnie animatronic. Because you couldn't wear the new models, there was no risk of anyone making the discovery for a while. Or, ever, as it turned out. I kept waiting for the moment to come, but the body was never, ever found, no matter how many complaints came in about the smell.

Robby, of course, ended up tied to the suit, and he took the name Bonnie. Mary's influence, I expect, considering her own shift from Alice. So, dearest Mary was now caring for young Bonnie. She gave him the gift of life...

And then she lied to him.

She told him that she didn't know why they hadn't moved on, that she suspected they lingered because their murderer was still at large. Put forth the possibility that they wouldn't be able to move on until they got me out of the picture, blamed me for the fact that she wouldn't let him move on.

It was the story she gave everyone.


	3. Chapter 3

It's daytime now, the night having passed as hours ticked by. I'm watching as she paces. Agitated, anxious, her attention on the group of people as they pick through what's left of the ruins. They chatter among one another, making it quite clear that they're after something for the attraction. Taking in what they're doing to her, I smile.

If the Marionette was still around, I'm sure she would have sent it after them. Unfortunately for her, it's gone, destroyed a long time ago.

I suppose I should go over the animatronics themselves. Or rather, what control we can exert over them. Given that they are walking, talking computers, the animatronics come with a certain amount of programming. Things for them to do in different situations, so our cheery, furry friends will dance and sing and talk to the people that wander about. This programming is not something we can change, not something we can go against or fight. We can't move them about as we would our bodies when alive. However, if it didn't go against programming, we can...nudge them, here and there.

So, for example, it's against the rules for an endoskeleton to be caught without a suit. People are mistaken by the programming to be an endoskeleton when seen after hours, because no one's supposed to be around at that point. Whatever security guard gets put in charge of the night shift thus runs the risk of being seen, and thus being stuffed into a suit. If the animatronic we're possessing sees the guard, we can't stop it from trying to chase them down. However, if we keep the animatronic from looking that guard's way, then we can keep them safe. Or a fighting chance, at least.

The reverse is also true, of course. We can push them toward the guards, in the hopes of catching them.

There's more programming in the system than that, of course. If anywhere's out of bounds, then we can not force ourselves past that point. If we're told to go somewhere, we can't disobey. It's limited control, and the more safety measures and protocols involved, the less we're able to manipulate what we have.

I haven't had a chance to experience this firsthand. I'm not tethered to the spring Bonnie suit, just the body inside, and regardless of what's wrapped around it, a skeleton isn't moving anything.

Which brings us back to the past, and the biggest problem both Mary and her new friend had. Trying to stop me while the programming in their suits prevented them from doing anything drastic as I went about my life, completely unaware. You can see how much effect their efforts had, as two more joined their ranks within several months of each other.

Heather was next, another eight year old. She became Chika. The fourth child I killed was also the youngest, age four. Her name was Abigail, and she was such a tiny thing. I put her inside Freddy, and she went so far down that even if someone did think to look, I doubt they would have been able to see her under all the metal parts.

I remember the animations following me as I led the kids away. Anthony stopped them. They tried to warn him, he dismissed it as their voice box's malfunctioning. He's the one that suggested the robots be reprogrammed. Annoying as I found him, he managed to accidentally save me from getting caught, and he condemned the children to watch as I continued with my hobby.

It's fun to watch this group. They're so desperate for content that they're getting excited about the most mundane things. One of them grabbed the old metal fan and acted like it was the find of the century. One of them found a spare Foxy head...

Oh, Mary's seething. She's not even watching them anymore, she left the room. I follow her, into the back, away from them. I'm still smiling, leaning against the wall.

"Sounds like they're having fun," I say.

"They're all bastards."

"Eh, give it a few hours. They'll have to go home sometime. They might be back later, but hey, at l-

Pain. A sharp, tearing sensation shot through me, brought me to my knees, wiped away all traces of thought as a white light flared behind my eyes. I came back to myself doubled over, shivering, a laugh caught in my throat as I struggled.

"T-there's my girl..."

"Shut up. Shut up, you stupid fuck."

"S'not hurting them much, though. Pity, I'd...I-I'd rather like to see that."

"I said-"

The rest of her sentence cut off with another flash, another blow clashing against my core, any this time when I could see again, I was on the floor, cackling. Tears in my projections eyes, blood forming a puddle where I lay. Not real, not actually bleeding, but it was a good enough representation. What else would it look like if someone had a pole shoved through them?

It's nice to see her feel so strongly about something again. So, I bait her. "I haven't seen...haven't seen that look since I choked the life out of you, little Mary~"

She reacts just how I wanted her to, by lashing out, by burning me with the flame of her anger. I don't fight back. No point in it really, she proved how easily she could overpower me a long time ago.

By the time she starts to calm back down, they're gone, and we're once more alone. She leaves me in the back room, and I don't follow. Not just yet.

Here's a question for you. A fun, moral question. Most people wouldn't argue the statement, 'Richard is a bad person,' right? I'm a murderer, I killed children for fun. You'd probably look at our situation and say that Mary is justified in going out of her way to torture me. I'm the bad guy, and I hurt her.

Would you say that Mary is a good person, then? A hero, for trying to stop me? For keeping me here long after beating me? She did take in several children after their deaths, and she also went out of her way to try and keep others safe. Would you say that's noble of her?

I hurt others because I enjoyed it. She hurts me for the same reason. You could say that my actions erase any negative implications where that is concerned, but what if I told you I'm not the only person she's ever turned on? Poor Anthony. She tortured him, too, although it wasn't nearly for as long as she's had me. Anthony was punished, quite severely, for a crime he wasn't even aware he committed. Hell, he was one of the people trying to find the murderer, he was the one rallying to connect all the animatronics to the police database, to give them authority to make emergency calls if someone was suspected of wrongdoing. It's not his fault that his actions allowed me to roam free.

What does that make her, then? Knowing that she tortured an innocent person to sate herself? Could you still say she's a good person knowing that? Even if you ignore her lying to the other kids, even if you excuse her manipulation as her being just a scared little girl who didn't want to face her situation alone, you can't ignore what she did to Mr. Phone Guy.

For several hours, I stay in the back room. When I come out, I find her just where I knew she would be.

Outside, arms folded, head turned up to the Fazbear's Fright sign. I approach, to stand by her side, and I place a hand on her shoulder. She doesn't flinch.


	4. Chapter 4

I suppose this is the part where I should go back and talk about my kids.

They were great. Best part of my life. They were so small when they were born, tiny, fragile things. Bit bigger than most thing's I'd played with, but even less able to defend themselves. I remember the first time I held Thomas. My wife put him in my arms, and I imagined what it might have been like if I just...let go, dropped him. He was so breakable that simply not holding him would have been enough. I hadn't killed Mary at that point, no human blood on my hands, and at the time I'd considered making him my first. It would have been easy to make it look like an accidental death, and no one would have been the wiser.

Something changed as he grew. I couldn't tell you when it happened, or even if there was a definitive line...but there came a point where I didn't want to kill the boy. A point where seeing him get hurt was upsetting rather than entertaining. I cared about him, went out of my way to make sure he was safe and happy. He was an adventurous kid, couldn't tell you how many times I had to protect him from hismself.

A few years after he was born, I got Percy. This time, I braced myself for the connection to form, but no amount of bracing could prepare me. He was even smaller than Thomas, and I found love for him all the sooner. Now I had two of them, two kids who burrowed themselves into my chest and refused to leave. They were my heartbeat, my everything. They were the only children after Mary that weren't in danger when they were alone with me.

I protected them them from everything, monitored their every movement, spoiled them with toys and games while chasing away potential threats.

Unfortunately, the biggest threat turned out to be Thomas himself. I realized, as they grew older, Thomas liked to pick on his younger brother. He liked to scare him, liked to push him around. He thought it was funny when he made him cry. I remember coming home one day to find Thomas had cut off the head of Percy's Foxy plush, and was wearing it like a mask while jumping out at him. It's no wonder the poor boy didn't like the animatronics anymore after that.

My first thought was that Thomas was developing traits I've found in myself. He liked to hurt small things. Percy didn't have that, he was a gentle soul, but Thomas...well. I couldn't stand by and do nothing, so I tried to fix the problem by giving Thomas something else to hurt. A hamster. I didn't directly say what it was for. If it'd been me in his place, knowing that the hamster was given with the intent for me to kill it, I would have assumed it was some sort of trap and I wouldn't have touched the thing.

I figured that would be enough, just having the easier option available...but it wasn't. No matter how much attention I tried to draw to his new pet, Thomas continued to terrorize Percy. I talked to him about that, told him what he was doing wasn't acceptable.

He just stopped doing it in front of me.

Things continued in this fashion for a while. Percy developed nightmares, avoided me if I was wearing either of the springlock suits, spent more and more time hiding away under the tables and in the corners. Mary and her group tried to help. She told me they regularly followed him home and tried to comfort him through his stuffed animals. It's funny, for a while his toys held children who hated me, and those children were doing their best to protect something I dearly cared about. They could only do so much, but they were trying.

I'm grateful to them for that, if nothing else.

Mary, Bonnie, Chika, Freddy...

I couldn't spend as much time as I would have liked with Percy at his party. It was his birthday, and I had to work. He'd specifically asked for it to be held at Freddy's, wanting to be close to me despite his fear of the place. It was touching, and I obliged.

During the party...one of those opportunities presented themselves.

A little girl. Lilly. She was going to go into Foxy, and thus complete my collection. I was focused on getting her into the back room, and Mary was focused on stopping me.

In that moment, neither of us were paying attention. Anthony, who was the other guard on duty, was dealing with an irate customer. Thomas was with a group of other kids, and together, they turned on Percy.

There is a very big difference between a scream of fright and a scream of pain. Fear is very much a sign of distress, but it's typically quieter, lower. When something hurts, the voice pitches, gets louder, desperate, shrill. I know the difference between the two, I've heard them often enough. Thomas and his friends, obviously, did not.

Up on stage, both of the springlock animatonics were active. Empty, no one inside them. Thomas pushed his brother into Freddy's mouth. Reminder here that the suits had already been deemed unsafe, we were only using them because...this is Fazbear's entertainment, the rules don't apply. Any protest Percy might have had was lost in the background noise of the pizzarea...until that jump in pitch. I heard his cries sharpen with agony, I looked up...and there he was. Thomas was laughing as the bear's gears ground against each other, something in its mouth keeping it from closing. The pressure built, unable to close, so the cogs turned harder, and harder, until even if Thomas had tried to pull the boy out, he couldn't have.

The Marionette was by my side. She would have tried to do something, but neither of us were close enough when we noticed what was happening. Not enough time to so much as say a word. I saw him struggle, writhing as his skull bowed from the pressure. Just as I registered what I was seeing, there was a pop. A crunch. The bone shattered, and everything was quiet.

It was like having my insides ripped out.

Thomas tried to get him out first. The bear's mouth was locked shut, unyielding, some fault in the system. I was there a moment later, I shoved Thomas out of the way, and I stuffed my hand in there, took apart the joint through all the blood. The jaw came off, and I pulled Percy into my arms, and...his skull was crushed. I don't need to describe the damage any further than that, do I?

Somehow, the boy was still alive, but that was less of a blessing and more of a false hope. We got him to the hospital, and they told us he was in a coma, and the chances of him waking up were very, very slim.

For a long time after the accident, things stayed quiet. It feels like there should have been noise, something happening, but nothing was. It was calm. The only noise in the room I heard was the beeping of the machines that kept my son's body from giving out all together. That...and Thomas, his voice hushed, throat cracked with tears. He begged Percy to wake up again, apologized for everything he'd ever done to him.

I didn't even go all the way into the room. I stayed in the back, at the doorway, I watched Thomas crying over the body. Percy wasn't dead, but he was close enough. The following days were a blur. The pizzarea shut down, for the dozenth time. Thomas fixed up the Foxy plush and we left him flowers, as if this could help somehow. I...

I have never, ever, been so angry with anyone in my life. He hurt my child. He hurt my boy. He hurt Percy. He hurt him so badly that he was never going to move again. Worse still, when he pushed Percy up into Freddy's mouth, he killed both of my children.

He did. A week after the incident, I dragged him down to the empty restaurant. I let him go, told him to run, and then I hunted him down. It took a while to corner him, but I knew the place better than he ever did. I got him trapped in the safe room. It was not fast by any means, I took my time. I used fire.

When it was over, I left him with Foxy. Then I was alone.

He wasn't, though. He was with Mary and her friends. Mary wasn't happy with him, either. She took him in, but she never forgave him for what he did.

The people have come back. I suspected they would, but what I didn't suspect was that they'd return with a set of blueprints. As soon as they walked through the door, they made a beeline for the safe room. Now, this is going to be interesting. They're going to take whatever they find for their little Fright attraction...and what they're going to find is my body, stuck in the suit. I stand back and watch them.

Mary appears next to me as the door opens. A bundle of nervous energy as they surround and fawn over their discovery. The first thing they do is try to turn it on, but alas, there is no energy left in the battery.

I watch her out of the corner of my eye, smiling. Miss Mary is so, so angry.

"What are we going to do now?" I ask.

"...we're going to break this toy of theirs the first chance we get."

"Mmm."

They load my body onto a cart to wheel me out. As they work, I feel her. Her essence moves in to encircle mine as she ties herself to the springlock suit.

And off we go.


	5. Chapter 5

Fazbear's Fright, for all it's been hyped up to be...is just another haunted house. It's not even a good one. It's almost cartoonish, to the point the only people it's ever going to scare are too young to have been to any of of the Fazbear establishments. No blood, no bodies, just a dusty, dark place with some memorabilia sprinkled throughout. There's an audio system in place, but really, that's not at all frightening. They could have had it play screams or something, but instead it plays Balloon Boy's laugh.

Why Balloon Boy? No one remembers him, no one likes him. Balloon Boy is a relic from the eighties, back when one of our sister locations tried to come up with a set of characters even more child friendly than the original group. They redesigned the entire cast, covered every sharp bit with soft rubber, gave them new voices. We called them the toy series, because that's what they were. They weren't animatronics anymore, they were toys. Hell, they let the kids play with the new Foxy so much it was little more than a pile of metal by the time it was discontinued.

I make a few attempts to joke about this place with Mary, but she's too focused on the spring Bonnie suit to listen.

The people who found us got the system up and running again. They spent a good couple hours reprogramming it, then turned it on, let it walk about for a bit. When the hardware didn't show any issues on the surface, they decided their job was done and didn't go any further. So they didn't find me, of course, but that's less worrying than the fact that they weren't even interested in checking if the suit was rusted or moldy or...anything. Behold, ladies and gentlemen, the health and safety practices of the Freddy Fazbear industry! Indeed, the welfare of our customers has always been, and will always be, our last concern.

So, the reprogramming. They removed most of what was in there, just about wiped the slate clean. Then they threw in a new set of instructions. The suit is to follow any noise it hears, walk up to whatever's making that noise, and scream at it. Traveling though the vents is encouraged for extra sneakiness.

Basically, we've been redesigned to go around shouting 'boo.'

This programming is rather vague compared to what we had before. Not vague enough, though. In addition to following customers, it's also been made unable to leave the premises. There's nothing that can be used as a weapon laying about, and while animatronic hands can do a great deal of damage to human flesh, they can't get through the protective covering to get at the endoskeleton underneath. Despite her every effort, Mary can't do a thing to spring Bonnie.

And, as the guard has proven through making Balloon Boy laugh in several different rooms, she can't override the programming that demands we be led through the building by sound. We are an active part of this attraction now.

Arms folded, leaning against the wall, I watch her pace. Restless anger, her hands curled into fists, teeth bared. She's an oncoming storm, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. And like a flash of lightening, her rage is something to be admired. It's harsh, blazing. It's terrifying, and glorious.

"I think he's just goofing off on the job at this point," I comment as the laugh echos off in the distance yet again. "You'd think he'd be bored by now."

She stops pacing, and I wait for her to turn on me.

So, after my kids died, the pizzeria I worked at shut down. I didn't apply when the place inevitably reopened, although I still kept tabs on what was going on. Anthony and I stayed in touch. He seemed keen on the idea of helping me through my loss, and once enough time passed, he decided we'd become friends instead of mere coworkers.

He ended up on the night shift, where he stayed for several years.

Here's a quick breakdown of the timeline, for those of you keeping track of such things. I was in my mid twenties when Thomas was born, and I was nearly thirty when I killed Mary. Thomas was thirteen when all that nastiness went down, while I was thirty eight. Another twenty five years passed, putting me at sixty three when I died.

Anthony went first. Working the night shift for so long, through several cycles of closing and reopening, I'm surprised he made it as long as he did. In all likelihood, it was an accident. Mary hated him, but the other children understood that it wasn't his fault. That said, once he was dead, she had her chance to repay him for all those times he'd prevented her from either getting at me or from protecting those I killed. She told me she punished him, told me that she tore the poor bastard apart.

She told me that the other ghosts stopped her. Didn't go into much detail, but I can imagine. The four of them, Bonnie, Chika, Freddy and Foxy, all watching as their friend and leader tortured an innocent man. They wouldn't have known just how much control she had over them, but through decades of following her, they had to have known that she was at least a little more powerful than they were. I like to think they were afraid of her, in that moment. I like to think they were nervous when they stood up to her and told her she was wrong. I like to think that maybe, even if for just a little while, she might have thought to hurt them for opposing her.

They told her to leave the guy alone, and she did. The problem was, of course, she couldn't get rid of him after that. Mary talked herself into a corner with her lies, unable to continue torturing him, and unable to let him move on. Because the kids all thought I was the reason they were still tied to this plain, if he vanished, they would have realized, and they probably would have demanded to move on themselves.

He's not the only one that got caught up because of this, either. It took a while...but Percy did, eventually, die of his injuries.

He must have been so upset. Mary kept an eye on him, so when he went, she was there to take him back with her to Freddy's. She let him know what I'd done, and her ongoing efforts to see me dead. Percy was appalled. First, he was bullied, then killed by his brother, then he found out about my hobby, and finally he's approached and asked to participate in my murder.

Percy didn't want to have anything to do with them or me. He refused to participate, but like with Anthony, Mary couldn't let him go without letting it slip that none of them had to go through this.

On my end, I never got over the death of my children. I tried to move on, but every time I thought I was making progress, something would happen. Something would remind me, and it was like loosing them all over again.

It was Anthony's death that reminded me on this occasion.

I'd known for a while before anything hit the papers. When he just vanished, I knew that the animatronics got to him. Just as he was getting close to retiring, too. It took time for him to be reported missing, and when he was, the papers and the news stations both brought up old cases. They talked about my children, even mentioned me by name. Richard, the poor father who suffered a great loss. They said that I owed my suffering to the establishment itself.

I thought about that for a few days. Then I grabbed myself an axe, and I headed to the facility. There was no guard on duty that night, the last one had been fired(which is amazing in of itself. How bad could you fuck up that even Freddy's won't have you?), so I didn't need to kill anyone to go unnoticed.

I went from one animatronic to the next. Freddy first, then Bonnie, then Chika, then Foxy. I broke them as thoroughly as I could, until there was no fixing them, until there was nothing salvageable left to scrape together into another working character. I went into the safe room, long since boarded up, to do the same to the spring Bonnie suit. The Freddy suit was long gone, destroyed by the authorities after what happened to Percy, so this...was the only one left.

It turns out that when a spirit isn't attached to anything, they can project themselves in a way that lets living people see them. Only one person at a time, and only with a great deal of energy. It's brief, in flashes, images and echos of words in your head. By breaking the animatronics, I'd forced Mary into releasing her hold. They surrounded me in that room, stood between myself and the door. Mary abandoned the Marionette to join them, she came to threaten me. It wasn't her I paid attention to.

The thing is...I could have ignored them. I could have walked out of there. Without anything to posses, it was impossible for them to touch me. I didn't know that, but I didn't think to try, either.

I saw my son. He was just as I remembered him, his face charred and burned, pleading with me for help. Begging for freedom, telling me I was the only one who could do anything. It was him, and none of the others. They didn't bother me.

Hearing his voice again, seeing him flicker in my mind's eye, it hurt, like acid on a wound. So I ran. Tried to hide from them. I put on the suit, the idea was get out of there with it on and destroy it later. The springs were wet, coated with rain water let in by a leaky roof. I didn't even make it a step before I heard them give out.

That was the most unpleasant part, aside from Thomas. Not the death itself, but the moment before that. The clang, and then a creek. The mechanical insides didn't snap all at once, no. The spring clicked, and I was left in a quiet lull of inactivity. Staying perfectly still, frozen, knowing that any movement would make the suit collapse around me. I was doomed where I stood.

Thomas gave me that last push. This was hard for him, too. He came close, he told me he had to do this. He reached for me, and I flinched.

And with that, I was impaled. Crushed. Metal beams pierced straight through me as I collapsed, my ribcage shattered, and I was left there, my wounded body torn between bleeding out and suffocation.

The villain was vanquished, the story should have been complete.

But I'm still here.

Mary let them go. She let all of them go, but she didn't go with them. The moment they'd departed, she reattached herself, and she tied me to my own corpse. And thus followed a good thirty years of an afterlife spent together.

I wait for her to turn on me, for her to take her anger out on the only other being available to her. It's what she does. But she doesn't face me, instead she turns away, giving me her back, ignoring the robot as it wanders into the next room. Her shoulders shake, but it isn't until I hear her breath catch that I realize what she's doing.

My smile fades. I watch her as she hugs herself, her head bowed, struggling and failing not to make any noise. I wanted her to be pissed, not to start crying.

I suppose it's not entirely out of the question. It's been hard for her, watching Fazbear's Fright come to exist, and as I've mentioned before, anger doesn't last forever. It comes and goes like waves in the ocean. She doesn't have the energy for it right now. That's fine, I'm patient, I understand. It's the tears I can't tolerate.

Three possibilities come to mind as I approached. Punishment, of course. Or, she could be apathetic, either stand there and ignore me or shrug me off with the command to keep back. Without hesitation, I hugged her, and she neither hurt me, nor did she pretend I wasn't there. Instead, she took the third option.

She broke down.

Mary turned and clung onto my shirt, her legs buckling until the both of us ended up on the floor. I pulled her into my lap as she sobbed into my chest, gasping for air which she no longer needed. Her voice rang out in a pained wail, and I curled myself around her. My arms crossed over her back as I dipped my head down over her own, squeezing. With soft, gentle movements, I rock her back and fourth, and under all the noise she makes, I hum a quiet lullaby.

I comfort her, as once I comforted my children.

Because that's what she is. At the end of this story, she is my child. I've left more of an impact on her than her biological parents ever did. I made her, she is my daughter, and I am her father. And I hate to see her cry.

Eventually, she'll be angry again, but for now, I hold her.

Time passes in a blur. She weeps herself into exhaustion, her projection growing still in my grip. I can vaguely feel spring Bonnie shambling closer, then further, then closer again. Never too far away for us, never far enough that we need to follow after it. I hold her until she pushes away from me, an irritated noise in the back of her throat, a hand raised to wipe at the wetness on her face. She stands, turning from me again, and I follow. I put my hands on her shoulders. She doesn't move, nor does she comment.

"You know, Mary," I say, casual. "I noticed the programming doesn't say that screaming is the only thing the animatronic can do when it wanders up on someone."

"What do you mean?"

Her voice is cold.

"Well...the suit has to scream, right? But there aren't any programs preventing it from doing anything else. There's no reason it can't...for example...rip a visitors' throat out after it screams."

She doesn't say anything.

I waited a few moments, before continuing, "It won't take much, I don't think, to get this attraction stopped. Can't promise they won't try it again, but we could stop this particular building. Maybe get someone killed before the place even opens. The guard isn't going anywhere. We could go after him."

The suggestion was left there, hovering in silence. I didn't break it this time.

She said, "...you can go after him."

"What do you-?"

The shift was sudden, a harsh jolt, and I found myself removed from the skeleton, relocated into the coiled metal that once took my life. I shuddered at the change, fingers flexing, and the machine responded by echoing the gesture.

"You go after him," she repeated. "I'll see if I can get him to stop playing that horrible sound for ten seconds."

Her form shifted, her projection morphing before my eyes. The creature that stood before me was tall, maw full of sharp teeth, wires sticking out of torn and matted fur, a single glowing eye staring down at me. Mary took Foxy's form on purpose, an echo of that which I've lost, and I smile. She huffs, and is gone, off to meet up with the guard. While he's distracted, I start making my way to the office.

I manage to get three rooms closer before the laugh plays and I'm forced back.

With that, it's become a game. Mary can't hold his attention for more than a little bit at a time, I can't get to him so long as there's noise to lead the suit away, and he's going to have problems playing the noise with her interference.

Looks like this haunted house just got a hell of a lot more interesting.


	6. Chapter 6

For four days straight, the guard managed to evade our every attempt to pin him down. Brave of him, to keep coming back with Mary's phantom images jumping out every ten minutes. Anthony would have been proud.

This little venture of ours is going to be cut short, but hey, it was fun while it lasted.

Fazbear's wonderful attention to all things concerning safety seems to have lead to a faulty wire somewhere. Worse still, there are a good many things in this building that are very, very flammable. The weekend guard noticed first, and he got the hell out of here. I'm sure professionals will be by soon enough, but the fire's spread too quickly.

Everything's burning, and Spring Bonnie can't leave.

"...looks like you're going to get your wish." I said, hands folded behind my back, grinning. Watching her close for her reaction.

"Good."

One word, laced with finality. Truth be told, though, I think she's disappointed. I think she needed a reminder that this was what she wanted in the first place. It seems she got into the game just as much as I did.

"What now?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"What are we doing now? Are we going to die?"

She's in charge. It's her choice.

I wonder what comes after this. Is there really an afterlife? This, our existence here, proves nothing. We're like after images that linger without passing. What we are now doesn't mean there's going to be anything waiting for us. And if there is something waiting...what might it be?

Not every religion has a concept of Hell, but enough of them do. Paradise for good people, punishment for bad. If such places exist, I know that I would not go there alone. Mary is just as burdened with sin and I am.

I tilt my head, stepping closer.

I ask, "Will we burn together?"

She stares at me for a moment, and then she shakes her head.

"No, we're leaving. We need to make sure Fazbear's Fright never happens again."

This is an excuse. She's trying to sound noble, but she's just afraid. That's okay. I'm not going to argue the point with her.

She pulls me off of the animatronic, and takes me outside, tying the both of us to a pair of trees outside. We stand and we watch the place go down. Once more, Freddy Fazbear's is gone. Maybe it will stay gone, and maybe it won't.

But I know that we're going to be around for a long, long time, regardless.


End file.
